


In Our Silence, Volumes

by roamingbadger



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bendemption, Canon Compliant levels of Violence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Post-TLJ, Shower Sex, angst with more than one happy ending, author is not sorry for that pun, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-26 00:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17131292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roamingbadger/pseuds/roamingbadger
Summary: When Rey senses through their Force Bond that Ben is in trouble, she'll stop at nothing to get to him. But what if he's not ready to be rescued - from himself? Post-TLJ.





	1. Rey

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ceallaigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ceallaigh/gifts).



Rey was staring at the underbelly of Poe’s X-wing when the words came.

_Rey. I’m sorry—_

_Ben_. She turned her head, heart pounding, half-expecting him to be stretched out on his back beside her. Her limbs tingled at the thought.

But all she saw was the empty durasteel floor of the hangar bay.

“Well?” asked Poe from where he stood beside the ship. His feet shifted restlessly as he waited for her assessment.

“Something’s wrong.” Ben’s apology—a phrase she never thought she’d hear—had been abruptly cut off. And the tone of it: sad, lost, angry, rueful. Like the last words of a victim to his executioner.

He was in trouble.

“Thanks, but I figured that out when I almost burned to death,” said Poe drily. “Can you be a little more specific?”

Rey pushed herself out from underneath the X-wing. She had to get to Leia. Leia would know what to do.

When Poe saw the look on her face, his eyes widened. “Oh, kriff. That bad?”

“I need to see the General.”

His brows creased in confusion. “About . . . the X-wing repairs?”

Rey stood and gripped his shoulders, resisting the urge to shake. “Where is she, Poe?”

“She’s . . . she’s in the command center. I saw her earlier. But—wait! What’s going on?”

Rey was already halfway across the hangar bay, her large strides eating up metal as she left him behind.

“What about my ship?” he called.    

“Sorry,” she shouted back as she rounded the corner to the hallway. “I’ll fix it later. I promise.”

She was good at fixing things.

But first she had to know what was broken.

Rey switched to a jog as her thoughts began to race. Ben could be anywhere. They’d been tracing the movements of the First Order over the past few months thanks to some people on the inside, but their communications were always delayed. Her gut twisted. Could this have been the Resistance?

Could Leia have hurt her own son?

She made it to the command center in record time, happy for once that their current base on Shantipole was old and small and therefore easy to navigate. She was out of breath by the time she burst through the doors and said, “Something’s wrong with Ben.”

Eight heads turned her way.

_Kriff._ She hadn’t expected the entire leadership team sans Poe to be meeting at exactly that moment. Rey’s eyes met Leia’s at the far end of the table, and the general’s lips pressed shut.

“Everybody out,” Leia said. The others hurried to obey the order. Rey hardly noticed their curious looks as they slid past her, although she did make a mental note to learn how to knock.

There were enough strange rumors about her out there. She didn’t need this one spreading.

“You might as well sit down,” said Leia in a resigned voice when they were alone.

Rey stepped closer, but she couldn’t bring herself to sit. Her nerves were alive with adrenaline. “Something happened. I don’t know what. Did you get any reports from the people inside?”

“Slow down,” said Leia. She tapped her fingers on the table, watching Rey with narrowed eyes. “Where exactly are you getting this intelligence?”

Rey swallowed. Over the space of three breaths, she considered her options. She could continue to pretend there was nothing between her and the Supreme Leader. She could make up a story.

Or she could tell the truth.

“I heard it,” said Rey. “From him.”

Leia’s fingers stilled. Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, that’s new.”

“Not exactly.”

Leia studied her. The lines around her mouth drew tight as she stared. Then she pushed out the chair beside her. Not a suggestion this time. “Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

Rey forced herself to sit, but her left leg bounced with excess energy as she spoke. “We have a—a connection. A kind of—Force—thing. He appears sometimes as if he’s standing right next to me.”

“Sometimes?” Leia’s voice was unreadable.

Rey waved a hand. “Every few days. Maybe once a week. It’s been happening since Ahch-To.”

If possible, Leia’s lips got thinner. “Since Ahch-To.”

Rey nodded.

“That was three months ago.”

“Yes.”

“My son has been appearing to you for _three months_ because of, I quote, a ‘Force thing,’” Leia said, “and you’re telling me this now.”

Rey’s leg went still as guilt washed through her. “Um. Yes?”

Leia rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she leaned back in her chair. “I know you told me to have patience, but sometimes they make it so hard.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Leia’s eyes shot to Rey’s once again, and they were deadly serious. “So you have these . . . interactions . . . every few days. When was the last time he appeared?”

“Five days ago. He was teaching me how to—nevermind. Not important. But then just now . . .?”

With what looked like an effort of great will, Leia skipped over the first part of Rey’s words and focused on the second. “Something happened that made you think he was in trouble.”

“I heard him. He said . . .”

“Go on.”

“He said, ‘Rey. I’m sorry.’” Rey’s voice broke on the second word, and she cleared her throat uncomfortably. Leia’s face was unreadable. “It sounded like he wanted to say more, but he got cut off.”

“Did you see him?”

“No. He didn’t appear. Just his voice.”

Leia tilted her head. “So what makes you think something’s wrong?”

“I can feel it! He sounded—upset. Worse than that. Regretful. He _apologized,_ for kriff’s sake!”

“That does sound unusual,” Leia said with a wry twist of her lips.

Rey leaned forward across the table. “We have to get in touch with the people on the inside. Find out what’s going on. They might know something.”

“We received a report yesterday. He’s on Chandrila for a meeting with his generals.” Leia sat back. “Unfortunately, things are going just fine.”

“He _was_ on Chandrila. You know those reports are a few days old by the time they reach us.” Rey stood up, and Leia flinched at the sound of her chair scraping over metal. “Please, Leia. Believe me.”

Leia studied her again, brown eyes hard and discerning. Rey felt her cheeks heat under the general’s gaze. “What was he teaching you?”

Rey’s skin flushed even further. She could feel the heat down the back of her neck. “How to fix the lightsaber,” she mumbled. _And how to press my lips right under his ear until he couldn’t breathe._

Just as Rey was teaching him how to kiss her in return, to thumb over her nipples in _exactly that way_ until stars danced before her eyes. Just as she was guiding his fingers up, up, up the inside of her thigh, under her nightshirt, until they met slickness at the top.

A slickness that was, incidentally, reappearing at the memory.

“That better not be a euphemism,” Leia said.

Nothing like talking about your—Rey tripped on the word “lover”—with his own mother to douse the heat of lust. “It’s not,” said Rey. “I’ve got it working now.” Somehow that didn’t come out sounding any better.

Leia pressed her palms over her eyes. “Even if that’s true, you’ve compromised us dangerously for the information.” She lowered her hands. “Why didn’t you tell me this before, Rey?”

Rey opened her mouth. Shut it again. Swallowed. “I was . . . “

Leia waited.

“I was afraid,” Rey said. When the words escaped her, a small weight lifted from her shoulders, and she sucked in a deep breath. “I thought you’d kick me out. Or—or use it against him.”

Leia’s lips twisted again. “Good idea. Maybe we should give it a try.” But her voice was deadpan, not serious. Rey managed a small smile in return. “Listen,” Leia continued after a moment. “I’ll ask our people for an updated report. But it may take a few days. That’s the best I can do.”

“A few _days_? Leia, if something happened to him, he could have hours!” Any relief from earlier evaporated as Rey’s pulse began to race again. “We have to get to him. Send me. I can get him out.”

“Will you listen to yourself? Rey, you’ve already put me in a terrible position by communicating with him at all. Now you’re talking about showing up on the First Order’s doorstep and, what? Politely requesting an audience with the Supreme Leader?” Leia shook her head. “We can’t risk it. He’s had his chances. We’ll do this my way, or not at all.”

Rey’s hands shook. “You don’t understand. I know what I felt.”

“Oh, I understand.” Leia’s face grew suddenly worn and tired. “You’re emotionally compromised, Rey. I’m removing you from your next mission. You’re on base duty until further notice.”

“What? Leia, Ben is in trouble. _Your son_ is in trouble.” Rey’s voice cracked. “You can’t just stand by and watch him die!”

“We’re at war.” Leia’s eyes bore into Rey’s, the strength of former sorrows turning them to steel. “How else do you think this works?”

Rey had no response to that. Silence rang in her ears. Leia was right, of course. By the strain on her face, she didn’t look happy about it, but then, she hadn’t looked truly happy for a long time.

And for good reason.

Rey forced herself to breathe. _In, out._ “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She could wait a few days. She could give Leia that much.

Leia watched her closely, then nodded. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Thank you.” Rey nodded in acknowledgment before turning to leave the room.

“And—Rey?”

Rey paused, her hand on the door’s control panel.

“If the Force is connecting you, I hope there’s a good reason. I really do. But . . . be careful.” From behind Rey’s shoulder, Leia’s voice grew low. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

#

Poe found Rey straddling the right arm of his X-wing several hours later.

“Whoa,” he said, at the sight of his transformed ship. He circled it, his eyes growing wide. “I thought it was the negative power coupling?”

“It was,” said Rey, bent over a few wires in the right laser cannon. “I fixed that an hour ago. Your cannon is a little warped, so I’m fixing that, too.”

“And you gave her a good wash.” His hand skimmed the side of the ship. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Could you pass up that hand welder?”

He obliged. When Rey put down her face shield and he didn’t move, she said, “You might want to close your eyes.”

Instead, they narrowed. “Is everything okay?”

“What?” Her pulse jumped under his scrutiny, even with the face shield down. “Yes. Of course. Why?”

“You’re fixing things that aren’t even broken.”

“BB-8 complained about the cannon just yesterday!”

“He also complained about the uneven flooring in the hangar hall. And the cracks in my quarters.”

“Well, I’ll fix those after this.”

“Rey.” Poe reached up and gently took the welding tool from her fingers. She clutched it for a moment, stubborn, but released it when he raised a brow. “The ship looks great. Come down.”

She hesitated, but gave in when she realized she was talking to the most stubborn person in the Resistance.

As she leapt down, a flash of worry for Ben shot through her, hitting her out of nowhere. She listened for a word from him, a sign, anything, but she was met only with her pounding heartbeat and a concerned look from Poe.

He pushed up her face shield. “What’s going on?”

She tore the mask the rest of the way off and tossed it into her toolbox. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Poe shook his head. “Right. And I’m Mon Calamari.” He crossed his arms. “Is this about Finn?”

Any more shots of adrenaline to her system and Rey might be sick. “What happened to Finn?”

“Nothing. I just know you’ve been worried since he left with Rose last month. I promise you, Rey, he’s fine.”

“Oh.” She let out her breath. “That’s good, then.”

Poe’s eye bore into her. “But you’re still upset. About what?”

“Why do you care?” she asked bluntly. Sometimes directness was the only way to get people to leave her alone. She’d learned that long ago, on Jakku. But Poe seemed undeterred. He gave her a small smile.

“I promised Finn I’d look after you. Also, I like to think I’m not an asshole.”

“Oh.” Rey glanced down at her grease-stained fingers, attempting in vain to rub off some of the dirt. “Thanks. But I don’t need anyone to look after me.”

“We all do,” said Poe baldly. “We’re fighting a war.” No sooner had he said the words than his face cleared and his arms dropped to his side. “Wait. Is that what this is about?”

“What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, glancing around the hangar to make sure they were alone. Lowering his head, he said, “Is it about the weaponization report from the First Order? I don’t know how you found out, but trust me, Rey, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

A cold feeling crept down her spine. “What?”

Poe reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “All we know is that they’re working on weapons against Force sensitives. It’s natural that they would try, after how you escaped them. Twice.” He half-smiled. “You’re one hell of a fighter, Rey. We won’t let them win.”

“Weapons against Force-sensitives,” she repeated.

He squeezed her again before dropping his hand. “You may want to lay low for a while, though. No risky missions.”

“Leia already grounded me,” said Rey, only half paying attention. “I’m on base duty until further notice.”

“Oh. That’s good, then. For now.”

But she blotted out Poe’s reassuring smile. Her mind was stuck on the words “Force sensitives.” It was well known in the Resistance that Hux posed a threat to Ben. In fact, most of command had suggested that the Resistance try to exploit it.

Perhaps they’d inadvertently gotten their wish.

“I’d better get back to my quarters,” said Rey.

“Right,” said Poe. “Get some rest. Watch some holos. Forget this conversation ever happened.”

She managed a weak smile as she hurried from the hangar bay, but forgetting was the opposite of what she planned to do.

#

Rey waited until the middle of the night to leave her quarters.

A few minutes had been enough for her to pack a bag. In fact, she’d never actually finished unpacking it. She shied away from whatever that meant. Dehydrated provisions, water jug, a few changes of clothes, repaired lightsaber.

She hoped it would be enough.

She hesitated as she slipped out into the hallway. Perhaps she should leave a note—something—so that they’d know where she had gone. But as she passed Leia’s doorway, dim light creeping out from underneath, Rey realized that a note would be redundant.

Leia would know exactly where she went.

_I’m sorry_ , she mouthed at the door instead.

A few minutes later, she reached the hangar bay without incident. Far in the corner, there would be someone in the traffic control center. Security continued, even on a planet that some pilots considered a one-way trip. The Resistance could never be too careful.

But they didn’t expect someone from the inside going out.

Fortunately, the _Falcon_ was berthed about as distant from the control center as a ship could be. Rey thanked R’iia for her luck as she crept between X-wings toward the hangar doors. All was silence and sleeping metal, a comfortable place for a scavenger like her. She was almost there. She could do this. For the first time since Ben’s words, she felt calm.

That was when she walked into someone.

A familiar grunt echoed around the hangar. Rey’s stomach fell to her toes. _Chewie._

“It’s me,” she whispered. “Keep it down.”

He responded from high above her head in Shyriiwook.

“I said keep it _down!_ ” She nudged him with her elbow and waved for him to duck beneath a nearby A-wing, blocking them from the control center’s view. “I’ll tell you what’s going on, but you have to keep quiet, okay?”

He gave a low groan.

“Sorry.” Rey took a deep breath. “I’m a little on edge. I’m . . . I’m leaving.”

His response to _that_ was a bit louder.

“Shh!” Rey glanced over her shoulder. “I’m—look. I know it sounds crazy, okay? But something happened to Ben. I think someone in the First Order tried to hurt him. And no one else is going to do anything about it.” She looked up—way, way up—into the Wookiee’s eyes. “So it has to be me.”

Chewie tilted his head, studying her. After a moment, he queried her with a few small grunts.

“I don’t know what happened. All I know is that he’s in trouble.”

Another low moan.

“Yes,” Rey said, avoiding his eyes. “I told Leia. But she reminded me that we’re at war and we probably shouldn’t go charging into the ranks of our enemy to help him out.” Rey couldn’t help the sarcasm leaking into her voice, although deep down she knew Leia was right. Rey had already gone to Ben once, and he had turned her down. She didn’t know what would happen after this attempted rescue mission. But that was a problem for the future. All she could think about now was the pain in his voice. If she didn’t do something about that, she’d go insane.

Chewie grunted.

“I know she’s right,” Rey said in a low whisper. “And I’m going anyway. You didn’t hear him, okay? I mean . . . nevermind. It’s a long story.” She met his eyes once more. “All I’m saying is, you can’t convince me to stay. So I’d suggest that you step aside before I do something I’m going to regret.” She tried to infuse her voice with determination rather than the hesitation that she felt deep down. She couldn’t actually do anything to hurt Chewie—could she? If Ben’s life were at stake?

She really didn’t want to find out.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to.

Chewie’s response surprised her so much that he was halfway to the _Falcon_ before Rey realized what he had said.

“Wait. Did you just say you’re coming with me?”

#

Despite Rey’s best arguments—that it would be dangerous, that the Resistance might not take them back—Chewie continued booting up the _Falcon_ from his seat beside her in the copilot’s chair. After a while, she stopped trying. If she was being honest with herself, she was a bit relieved.

It would be nice not to do this alone.

Chewie sent her an inquiring glance and a grunt, his hand on the controls.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m ready.”

As one, they flicked on the engines and eased the _Falcon_ off the hangar floor. The signal from air traffic control came immediately.

“What the— _Falcon!_ What the kriff are you doing? This is unauthorized!”

Rey recognized Kaydel Ko Connix’s voice. Rey did her best to keep her response cool. “Emergency mission assigned by the general herself,” said Rey. “No time to confirm.”

“Oh, there’s always time to confirm. Cut those engines!”

“Sorry,” said Rey, glancing at Chewie, who was already easing the _Falcon_ higher in the air. “We can’t do that.”

“Then you’re going to enjoy the blunt force of two tons of durasteel in less than a minute,” Kaydel snipped back.

“Open the door, Kaydel.”

“ _And_ you’re not supposed to use names on comms. That’s a week of kitchen duty, soldier. Now _land that ship_.”

_Kriff._ It was their bad luck that Kaydel happened to be on air controls that night. Anyone else of lower rank might be too in awe of Rey to question her. That was how it had gone in the Resistance. Either they were afraid to talk to her, or they treated her like any other soldier.

And she wasn’t.

As the Falcon eased toward the hangar doors, Rey knew what she had to do. Ben needed her. They couldn’t risk even one more day.

She took a deep breath.

“I’m not a soldier,” she said bluntly. “I’m a Jedi. And I’m sorry, Kaydel, but I’m leaving this hangar, whether you like it or not.”

A sharp response came back over the comms, but Rey blocked it out. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and reaching out with her feelings, just as Luke taught her on Ahch-To. The turmoil of emotion she’d been carrying since that morning fell away. Around her, the sparks of life that represented the sleeping Resistance flickered in her awareness like glittering stars. She felt the stone and metal of the old base, too, the way it had been slumbering here for so long. She saw the ghosts of its previous occupants—a few strange creatures using it as shelter, and before them, a Mon Calamari male surrounded by blueprints and engine designs, grease smeared across his cheek.

Then she came to the hangar doors.

They were old and tired, like aching bones on an aging human. But they grew solid within her reach. Like coaxing an animal into her outstretched hand, Rey tried easing them open, one inch at a time.

Nothing happened.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath. Chewie was going as slowly as he could without actually dragging them over the ground, but Kaydel would’ve alerted the others by now, and soon, the hangar would be swarming with pilots. Wouldn’t it? Rey blocked that image from her mind. This wasn’t the time for distractions.

She tried again, using a bit more force this time.

Again, the doors stayed closed.

“Kriff!” she said. They were fast approaching, as Kaydel put it, “the blunt force of two tons of durasteel,” and Rey didn’t particularly care to find out what that felt like. She dug deep into the stone and metal, feeling its slow Force signature, its steadiness. She needed it to move. It _had_ to move.

Ben was out there, waiting for her.

As if his name were a puddle of fuel waiting to ignite, awareness blazed to life in Rey. Memories bloomed in her mind, each one vivid and real as if she were reliving them. Ben after Crait, his jaw working angrily as he blamed her for turning him down. Rey’s own answering anger, the way her blood pounded in her veins until she couldn’t breathe, and then—and then she was kissing him, sliding her tongue between his lips. And he was kissing her back. She could still feel the imprint of his hands as they pulled her closer, burning through her clothes. Then, the next time he appeared, he was silent and unspeaking but for the red blush on his cheeks, which told her everything she needed to know. And, after that, they shared a slow and awkward unclothing, an exploration of skin that remained unfinished. Each time an item of his clothing came off, Ben grew quieter with her, more tender and yet more afraid. She could sense it.

He needed her.

Rey reached out and wrenched the doors open. They burst apart faster than they ever had before. She heard Chewie punch the controls next to her and, over the screech of metal, the _Falcon’s_ engines roared to full power. Rey opened her eyes just as the darkness of the hangar gave way to the shadows of night.

They were on their way.

She turned to see the base rapidly diminishing in their wake. The hangar doors were a wreck of smoke and metal. Chewie grunted a question as he punched in coordinates and calculations for their hyperspeed destination. Feeling a twinge in her chest, Rey turned her back on the base and directed her attention at the screen.

“That’s perfect,” she said when she saw the coordinates for Chandrila. “Let’s start there.”

Another grunt came as they reached atmos and Rey took over the controls. She’d thought leaving Shantipole would be the most difficult part—it wasn’t known for its easily navigable atmosphere—but with her Force awareness still blazing, they reached space in no time at all.

Before punching them to lightspeed, Chewie gave a few low moans. A question.

“I have no idea where that came from,” she lied. But as the white lines of hyperspace filled her vision, she thought, _Hang on, Ben. We’re coming._

#

If Rey thought that finding out what happened to Ben would be the hard part, Chandrila proved her wrong immediately. She put her hand to her ear as Chewie spouted off a few choice words into her comm link.

“I know,” she mumbled, trying not to move her mouth. “I see it, too.”

Projected onto the wall across from where Rey sat at the bar, a uniformed General Hux was announcing his newly appointed position as Supreme Leader. He stood in the old Senate Plaza of Hanna City, a few klicks away from where Rey sat in Junari Point. And beside him on the platform was a familiar form, only instead of his usual sullenness, Kylo Ren was encased in metal.

Frozen in carbonite.

Rey tried to tear her eyes away from the image, but they were trapped there as if locked in by a magnetic beam. Ben’s face twisted in pain and surprise, mouth open, eyes pressed closed. His hands were caught on their way up, as if to ward off whatever was happening to him. The cloak he wore as Supreme Leader had been removed, and instead he wore a loose shirt and trousers, as if his tunic had been stripped away. The thought turned Rey’s blood to fire in her veins.

She shifted her gaze to Hux, who now wore that same cloak. Altered, to be sure, due to his diminished height. Rey’s hands squeezed into fists.

She would make him pay.

“ . . . and from this day forward, I will make Hanna City, the birthplace of Ben Solo, my capital,” Hux said in his nasally voice, “lest anyone forget that he was a traitor and a child of Resistance scum!”

A dull cheer rang out from the crowd of Stormtroopers and uniforms before him. In the bar around Rey, heads bent together, and a chorus of whispers and murmurs backed up the sounds from the speech. She sipped her drink with shaking hands.

The secret was out.

“And should any of his Resistance _friends_ care to join us,” Hux continued, “I invite them to see firsthand my newest decoration!”

More cheers. The Bothan bartender shook his head, wiping down the counter before Rey with a dirty rag. The Chandrilan people, at least, did not seem particularly pleased with this development.

Perhaps that could be used in her favor.

As Hux opened his mouth to continue, the familiar sound of Chewie’s bowcaster rang out through Rey’s comm link.

“Chewie! Are you all right?” she asked, ducking her head.

His answering groan was almost lost amidst the sounds of fizzing and sparking wires.

Rey resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Are you serious?”

A complaining whine came down the link.

“Well, I hate him, too, but you don’t see me busting into this projector with my lightsaber,” said Rey. “And I am _not_ repairing that.”

Chewie mumbled something else she couldn’t quite catch.

“Just make sure the _Falcon_ doesn’t start burning,” she said. “The last thing we need is a trail of smoke telling them where we are.”

He argued back, but behind his grunts she could hear the sound of him moving to repair the damage he’d just done to the _Falcon’s_ holoprojector.

“I’m going off comms,” she whispered as the bartender sent a suspicious glance her way. “I need to ask around and get some more information. Then we can come up with a plan.”

Chewie’s response was surprisingly easy to hear this time.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she snapped. Her gaze returned to Ben, frozen on the platform behind Hux. At the sight of his shocked expression, her gut twisted, and for a moment, she felt physically ill. She rallied herself, taking a steadying breath. “Trust me,” she said. “We’re going to get him out.”

It was only when Chewie didn’t reply that she realized she’d already switched him off.

#

“Well,” she said, walking up the ramp of the _Falcon_ a few hours later, “we’re screwed.”

Chewie grunted an affirmative.

“You don’t have to agree _quite_ so quickly,” Rey muttered. At his responding protest, she knew she was being unfair. But combing the gossip of Junari Point had put her in a mood. No one was particularly happy about the First Order using Chandrila as their new playground, but they weren’t exactly worried about Ben Solo, either. “What’s the difference?” one of them had asked her, comparing Hux and Kylo Ren, and she had almost Force-thrown that person into the bar wall. Fortunately, sanity had restrained her.

Of course they didn’t care about him. They knew him only as Kylo Ren. But Rey had spent the last few months discovering Ben Solo.

A memory returned, vivid as always: Rey and Ben tangled shirtless in the dark. Her heart raced so hard that when Ben put his lips to her neck, he said, _I can feel your pulse._

She reached for his chest, skimming down the scar she had given him and then over until she found his heart. It was pounding through him as rapidly as her own. _Yours, too. It’s beating hard._ A wry grin split her face, one that he couldn’t see. _Are you nervous?_

Perhaps he could hear her grin, because he grunted in distaste. _No._

_You are. I can feel it._

He shifted suddenly, rolling until he pinned her to the bed. She felt his hardness brush against her wet core through their pants and her heartrate spiked even more in response. He shifted a little, freeing one hand to slide it over her bare breast—slowly, so slowly—and settle it between them. She felt lightheaded. _Then you must be nervous, too,_ he said.

She bit her lip. Considered telling a lie, playing it off. Then she said, _I am._

He stilled. The admission of truth seemed to paralyze him. Sensing something between them that had never been present in those sessions before, Rey let her hand slide down his chest even further, reaching for the button on his pants. Going to a place she’d never gone.

As if her touch pained him, he sucked in a breath and pulled away, removing not only his hand but his entire body. The shock of cold against her skin made Rey shiver, and she pulled her knees to her chest as she sat up. She felt suddenly hollow. _What’s wrong?_

_We can’t,_ he said, his voice shaking.

_Why not?_ She grew angry. _You haven’t exactly protested so far._

_We_ can’t, he said again, more vehemently, and she felt him shifting, looking for his tunic. He spoke again as he pulled it over his head. _I’ll only hurt you, Rey._

At the time, she hadn’t understood. _I know it hurts,_ she said, absurdly proud of the small knowledge she’d picked up from rumors on the subject. _But it gets better after a while. That’s what I heard._

His voice was low and difficult to interpret. _That’s not what I meant._

Before she could speak again, he was turning aside, and she felt their connection fading. _Ben, wait—_

And he was gone.

She understood, now, as her heart ached in her chest, what he meant back then. The last time she’d ever seen him. He _did_ make her hurt.

But he was wrong. It wasn’t being with him that hurt her.

It was being apart.

“I’m going into Hanna City tomorrow,” Rey said, the words surprising her as much as they did Chewie. He started to protest, but she held up a hand. “I need to scope things out. There _must_ be a way in.”

There had to be.

Because Rey wasn’t giving up until she got Ben Solo back.

#

Hanna City was unlike anywhere Rey had ever seen before. Bordered on one side by the Silver Sea and on the other by cliffs of crystal, it looked like a jewel nestled in a crown. As she crept down the road from Junari Point and entered the city proper, it only got prettier.

Flower boxes overflowed with colors outside each window, blossoms waving in the ocean breeze. Salt spray on the air mixed with the smells of the populace: incense oil burning outside a temple, the yeasty scent of fresh pastries drifting from a nearby shop. Rey’s stomach grumbled in answer. Beneath her feet, the uneven cobblestones gave the city an ancient charm, and the tintolive trees at the edge of the avenue cast dappled shade along her path. She had her hood pulled up, and her gray attire was drab compared to the colorful robes of passersby—humans, Jawas, Twi’leks, Rodians, all manner of creatures Rey had only heard about. And yet, despite the assault to her senses, the city felt—peaceful, in a way she had never known.

The streets were not as busy as she’d hoped they would be, which could be part of the unnatural stillness that she sensed there. As yet another purple-robed human strode past her, giving her a curious look, she realized her first step would have to be remedying her disguise. After all, behind the flowerboxes and the shimmering trees were the signs of the First Order: a few pasted-up notices on the walls, demanding rewards for Resistance fighters; a hastily-painted red spatter of the First Order symbol over someone’s door. She shivered as she passed it. Whether it meant the people inside were loyal or destined for arrest, she didn’t want to guess. Both seemed equally horrible.

Following her nose and her curiosity more than anything, she found her way to an open-air market in an old square. Booths bloomed like an unkempt garden, and despite the early hour of the morning, people were bustling about, picking up a leather satchel here and a basket of vegetables there. Rey’s stomach growled again. She longed to linger by a Rodian frying up some meat, but at that moment, the most colorful booth of all caught her eye.

A clothing seller.

She slipped up to the booth, running her fingers over one of the robes fluttering in the breeze. Chandrilan silk. She bit her lip. She could never afford such a luxury, but it felt smooth as marble beneath her skin.

Beside it was a much more practical choice, folded up on a little wooden table: a set of soft wool leggings and a green tunic, designed for the temperate weather of the seaside town. Rey’s callouses caught on the rougher fabric of the tunic. This, she could afford.

“Would you like to try it on?” a familiar voice asked from behind Rey.

Rey dropped her hand and spun, surprise putting her on alert. What she saw made her mouth fall open. “Rose?”

Rose Tico’s eyes widened in shock, her fingers flying to her lips. Even dressed in Chandrilan robes of bright pink and hiding her hair beneath a matching scarf, the Resistance mechanic was recognizable. So it made no sense when she opened her mouth, closed it again, took a deep breath, and said, “I’m sorry, you must be mistaken. There’s no one here by that name.”

Rey blinked. “Rose. It’s me. Rey.”

“Nice to meet you, Miss Kira,” said Rose in a slightly louder voice. For the briefest moment, Rey thought she saw a warning flash in Rose’s eyes—right before Rose took her by the elbow and dragged her physically across the booth. “Why don’t you try these instead? The color would be lovely on you.”

It wasn’t until a pair of leggings in horrible puce were shoved under her nose that Rey understood. Glancing behind her, she noticed the trio of Stormtroopers in the southeastern corner of the marketplace for the first time.

Rose continued in her sticky-sweet voice. “Actually, these aren’t in your size. Silly me. We have more in the house. Would you like to see?”

“I . . . I would love that.” Rey forced a smile back.

Keeping Rey’s elbow within her vicelike grasp, Rose led her through the back of the booth, where a curtain parted to reveal a red door. Rose took some heavy keys from her pocket with her free hand and unlocked the door, pushing Rey inside first. “This way,” she called out so that everyone would hear. Then she slammed the door and locked it.

“Holy hell,” Rose said when that was finished, in her normal voice. “I’m going to need a minute.”

“What are you doing here?” Rey asked.

Rose gave her a long look. “I should be asking _you_ that. Except I don’t have to. The report came from base this morning.” She sighed. “Never mind. You can tell me the whole story. I’ll call Dorian and make some tea.”

“Who’s Dorian?”

Rose pointed down the hall. “Let’s go sit down. It’s going to be a while.”

#

Rey took a hesitant sip of her tea. It tasted good—rich and warm with a hint of spice and sweetness. Clearly, it was meant to soothe. But by the look on “Dorian’s” face, it wasn’t exactly working.

“Dorian,” as it turned out, was Finn. Rose had just finished explaining their cover—Dorian and Lily, sanitation worker and market seller—when Finn himself walked in. And it wasn’t the scar twisting his features that made him look half-mad. No, that was from the report they’d received from Leia that morning.

The one that said Rey was going to Chandrila to rescue Kylo Ren.

" _Kylo Ren?_ I mean, really?” Finn said for the hundredth time. The scar he wore was just part of his disguise, but at that moment, it fit his persona. “It’s Kylo Ren, Rey. _Kylo Ren—”_

“I think we all remember his name,” said Rose.

“One of his names,” Rey corrected. Her voice went quiet. “He’s also Ben Solo.”

Rose and Finn exchanged a look. “So we heard,” Rose said after a moment. “From Hux’s speech.”

Finn cleared his throat in the awkward silence, reaching out to squeeze Rey’s hand. “You can still go back, Rey. Leia will forgive you. The others will forgive you. It’s not too late.”

_Leia will forgive you._ The words echoed down the tunnel of Rey’s memory to a night many weeks before. She lay in Ben’s arms, his body long and warm behind her. _You know she will._

He froze, then began to untangle himself. Disappointment seeped into her like a poison, killing the peace between them. _Neither of us know that,_ he said.

“I’m not going back,” Rey said firmly to Finn and Rose.

Finn’s eyes clouded, and he pulled his hand away. “Then you’re going to get caught. And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Short of staging a rebellion,” Rose said, sipping her tea. It was half a joke, her eyes alight. “I mean, we do have some friends around here now, and they’re not very happy about the First Order.”

Finn’s words echoed in Rey’s head. _You’re going to get caught._ An idea was forming in her mind, a crazy, stupid, impossible idea.

And it just might work.

“Where did you say you worked again, Finn?”

“I didn’t,” he said. “And my name is Dorian.”

“The Senate House,” Rose said slowly. She had told Rey earlier, when they were waiting for Finn to get home. “He works at the Senate House . . .”

"Right. Which Hux commandeered for his headquarters, if I’m not wrong. Isn’t that right, _Dorian?_ ”

“Yes,” Finn admitted. “But I don’t like where this is going.”

“So you’re on the inside,” Rey said. “Every day.”

“Yes, but—”

“What kind of access do you have?”

Finn crossed his arms, shaking his head. “No, Rey. Absolutely not. You are not dragging me into this.”

“He can go pretty much everywhere,” said Rose. “The First Order ignores him, like they do all Chandrilans. They think we’re scum.”

“Hmm. How interesting,” said Rey, as Finn shot Rose an angry look.

Rose ignored him. She leaned across the table, a smile growing on her face. “What did you have in mind?”

#

Chewie registered a protest under his breath as he and Rey climbed the stairs to the Senate House.

“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” Rey asked, jangling the chain that led from her restrained wrists to his belt. He had removed his usual leather bag and bandolier in favor of a weapons belt borrowed from Fitz, complete with a long black pocket for her lightsaber. “Don’t worry. This will work.”

He grunted a reply.

“You couldn’t have mentioned this ‘bad feeling’ earlier today when we discussed the plan?” Rey countered.

Before he could reply, they were interrupted by a voice over the loudspeaker. “Halt!” The word echoed down the stairs and throughout the Senate Plaza. In this, the newer section of the city, the buildings were tall and built of metal, and the streets were even emptier. The ghostly imprint of the First Order lingered around every corner.

Rey stumbled to a halt.

“Remain where you are,” the voice announced. “Someone will be with you momentarily.” It didn’t sound like a greeting. It sounded like a threat.

A few minutes passed in awkward silence before a cluster of Stormtroopers emerged from the Senate House doors. Amidst them was a figure dressed all in black.

General Armitage Hux.

“It can’t be . . .” one of the Stormtroopers began as they descended the stairs.

“I’m telling you, it is.”

Hux pushed his way out of the group, his stolen cloak flapping at his heels. The sight clouded Rey’s vision with a wave of red anger, but she managed to keep her blank expression in place. Barely.

“It’s her,” Hux said as he drew closer, pausing with his boots in her line of vision. His voice was half-wonder, half-triumph, as if he couldn’t believe his own luck. Then: “Take her. Pay the bounty hunter.”

“But, my lord—the Wookiee—”

“What about him?” Hux snapped.

“Nothing,” the Stormtrooper muttered. “I thought I recognized him, but he’s different somehow.”

Chewie roared, and most of the troopers flinched back.

“All these Wookiees look the same,” Hux said with a wave of his hand. “He’s only interested in payment. Take him to my throne room. Perhaps an audience with me will keep him satisfied. Then he can be on his way.”

Rey glanced up then to meet Hux’s eyes. They were the same color as the cold steel of the Senate House behind him that morning. When he met her gaze, a flash of victory flared in them. But she kept staring. After a moment, something like fear crept into his gaze.

He was the first to look away.

“Put her in the cell with the cages. And be careful until you get there. I want her on constant watch.”

_The cell with the cages?_ That didn’t sound particularly comforting. But Rey held her spine straight and her head high as the Stormtroopers moved forward to unclasp her from Chewie’s lead.

He roared and shoved them back when they got too close.

“You’ll get your payment,” Hux snapped. To the troopers, he said, “Get a protocol droid. This _thing_ is unintelligible. We’ll have to pay him first.”

A few minutes later, Rey found herself being dragged into Hux’s converted throne room, which had once been a meeting space off the Senate Chambers. No sooner had she crossed the threshold than a cold, sick feeling washed over her. Numbness began to creep from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. Her scalp tingled.

Chewie noticed something was wrong when she staggered to an abrupt halt. She saw him turn to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer the question in his eyes.

Something was _wrong._

Chewie’s gaze shifted past her shoulders. Rey turned to follow his line of sight and discovered a cage mounted on the wall, with a strange sort of lizard creature inside. As she watched, its tail furled and unfurled in place, its four eyes blinking rapidly. And still the cold feeling sank deeper into her bones.

It hit her suddenly, the reason for her numbness.

_She couldn’t feel the Force._

Panicked, she reached out for even the tiniest thread of sensation. Nothing reached back. The feeling dulled her senses as if water were slowly rising over her head. _And she couldn’t swim._

Hux chuckled, drawing her attention back to him. “You like them?” he asked. “Ysalamiri cages from Myrkr. Anti-Force projection. You’ll find your powers greatly diminished in this room.” He smirked as he moved to sit in his throne. “Ben Solo didn’t like them much, either.” He waved a pale hand to his right, and Rey’s heart stopped.

_Ben._ It had been one thing to see him on a projected screen in a dimly-lit bar. Seeing him in the flesh was like taking a knife to the chest. She gasped at the sight of his twisted, pained expression. The carbonite prison encasing him was mounted a foot off the ground like some kind of trophy.

Rey ground her teeth together as Hux’s words sank in. This cold emptiness had been the last thing Ben felt before being frozen in carbonite. Hux had stolen the Force from him. Impotent rage rose in her, starting in her gut, climbing up her throat, like she’d swallowed fire. She wanted to scream and tear at his cold steel eyes.

But that wasn’t the plan.

Forcing herself to take a deep, shaking breath, Rey closed her eyes. The Force wasn’t there to calm her, so her own will would have to do. And she was very strong-willed. Jakku had proven that.

As she struggled for calm, something slipped through the anger. Something that didn’t add up.

If Ben had been unable to use the Force in his last moments, how had he called out to her on Shantipole?

_Rey. I’m sorry—_

Rey opened her eyes.

Hux handed Chewie a bag of credits. “You’re welcome to stay and count them.”

Chewie grunted a few times in response.

“He says he will do that,” said the droid. “But he’s willing to hand over the Jedi now.”

“Excellent,” said Hux. He sent Rey a spine-tingling smile. “Enjoy your captivity, Jedi. It won’t last long.”

#

“Well, he was right about one thing,” Rey said to herself as she settled in the corner of her cell. She would be out of here soon. She had to remember that.

Her cell had very little protection by way of locks: just one, plain, with a single heavy key. Easily pickable, just as Finn predicted. But two more of those lizard cages were stuck up to the wall outside. The feeling of numbness settled over her shoulders like a heavy mantle, and Rey struggled to fight the panic building in her chest.    

“All right in there, Jedi?” taunted one of the Stormtrooper guards from the end of the hall. To his companion he asked, “Can you still be a Jedi, without the Force?” He laughed, and the other one joined in.

Rey ignored them. She cast her mind around for something— _anything—_ other than the weight sitting on her chest.

She found herself remembering a time not long after she had first kissed Ben. Anger still boiled in her, but it became something molten and uncontrollable, something . . . alive. After a long day of fixing things, she wound up with bruises on her hip and burns on her hands, and still she couldn’t sleep. Too distracted.

That was when Ben appeared.

He was angry, too. _I don’t have time for this._

_Too busy running your new empire?_ Rey spat back.

_Too busy putting out fires_ you _started. Tell your Resistance thanks for that._

She shook her head, hair brushing her cheeks. _You had the power to stop this war, and you didn’t. Why didn’t you stop it, Ben?_ Her voice broke. She pulled up her hands to cover her face.

Ben didn’t reply. At first, she thought he was ashamed—of their kiss, of their Force bond, of _her._ But then she felt him move closer, the warmth of him filling her senses, and his hand came up to cup hers, removing them slowly from her face.

_What happened?_ His voice was low as he stroked a fingertip across one of her new burns.

_I got distracted,_ she said bitterly.

His finger stilled on her hand. _Doing what?_

_Trying to fix my kriffing lightsaber._ What she didn’t say was, _Thinking of you._

But he seemed to know somehow anyway. He always seemed to know things she didn’t say out loud. His hand trailed up her arm and cupped her chin, forcing her eyes up to meet his. What she saw was turmoil to match her own—fear, distrust, vulnerability, desire. And the molten feeling she’d been carrying around exploded in her veins. It wasn’t anger anymore. It was something much more painful.

Love.

Ben’s eyes flashed as they held hers. Was he seeing her come to this realization? Was this another thing he knew, without her saying it out loud?

He said, _I can show you how to fix it._ His voice was tentative, guarded. As if he were expecting her to say no, but he had to offer anyway. He couldn’t stop himself.

And before she could think twice, she said, _Please. Show me how._

She was never sure if they were still talking about the lightsaber.

#

Rey jerked to alertness from her half-sleep as shadows crept across her vision. Night had fallen outside. Down the hall, her Stormtrooper guards played a muted game of Sabacc to pass the time. Rey could hear one of them cursing.

Then he stopped. “What are you doing here?”

Finn’s voice echoed down the hall. “Feeding the prisoner. Hux’s orders.”

“Hmmph,” said the other Trooper. “That doesn’t seem right. It’s only been twelve hours.”

“Hux’s orders,” Finn repeated. Rey could hear his footsteps approaching her cell. She crept forward, adrenaline bringing her all the way awake. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

“Wait a moment,” said the first Stormtrooper, just as Finn reached her line of sight.

Finn grimaced at her. Then his expression blanked as he turned back around. “Yes?”

“The prisoner doesn’t need to eat yet. She’s going into carbonite tomorrow. Give us the food instead.”

“But—Hux said—”

“Hux doesn’t need to know, does he, sweeper boy?” The second Trooper stood up, his chair scraping harshly along the floor. “Give it here.” He unclipped his blaster from his belt for good measure. “I’ve been here all day, and I’m hungry.”

Finn hesitated a few steps from her cell. Rey felt her heart moving into her throat. She swallowed, but the lump wouldn’t leave. Resignedly, Finn marched down the hall.

The Stormtroopers ripped off their helmets as he grew closer. Pulling the tray from Finn’s hands, they devoured her meager portion in seconds, laughing the whole time. They glanced down her way once, seeing her staring, and assumed her wrought expression was from hunger.

If only they knew how familiar with hunger she had been.

A few seconds later, the tray was empty. They sat down, still chuckling and brushing away crumbs. “Thanks for that,” the first Stormtrooper told Finn, replacing his helmet. “You can go.”

Rey’s heart sank.

Then, the second Trooper said, “Hang on . . . I feel . . .”

Two loud thumps echoed down the hall as both Stormtroopers collapsed to the ground.

Finn bent and retrieved the key from the first Trooper’s belt before hurrying to meet Rey. “Guess you won’t have to pick it after all.”

“How did you know that would happen?” Rey asked as he unlocked the door.

“Lucky guess,” he said. “And you owe me one.”

As her cell door swung open, she embraced him in a quick, fierce hug. “Thank you, Finn.”

“I’m still going to deny all involvement later,” he said, but he gave her a squeeze in return. “Come on. We should go.”

#

Finn deposited Rey outside Hux’s throne room with a swiftly muttered, “See you later.” She got the sense from his averted eyes that he was trying not to make a big deal out of their goodbye. She smiled at his retreating back. All the better not to—it helped her believe this wouldn’t be their last.

Turning, she carefully opened the throne room door. There was no time to worry now.

There was only Ben.

A wash of cold from the mounted ysalamiri cages hit Rey first. She swallowed back the rising bile in her throat as the now-familiar sensation of being Forceless enveloped her. Ignoring the cold sweat that broke out across her skin, she crossed the carpet in hasty strides, until she stood before cold carbonite.

“Ben,” she whispered, looking up at his closed eyes. She would never get used to that pained expression on his features, illuminated currently by the pale light of Chandrila’s moon through the lone window. Her hands began to shake, but there wasn’t time for nerves. Her fingers played across the metal until they found the control panel on the right side. At least he would be alive. He _had_ to be alive.

She pressed the control buttons to unfreeze him.

The metal burned hot, then began to melt away. Rey forced herself to step back and wait as the silver receded from Ben Solo. She held her breath as she watched his legs come free, and then he stumbled forward, into her waiting arms.

His weight carried them both to the ground. She landed on her knees, while he fell forward, his head resting against her shoulder. She turned her head and kissed his cheek, his ear, his temple. His curls tickled her nose. “Ben,” she said, over and over, as she trailed her lips against his skin. He felt hot, feverish, but that was a pulse beating against her lips.

“Rey?” His voice was quiet and hoarse as if from lack of use.

“You’re safe now.” She forced herself to pull back, helping him to kneel upright until their faces were a few inches apart.

His eyes remained clouded, confusion wrinkling his brow. “I—I can’t see you.”

“Carbon sickness,” she said, squeezing his shoulders. Just as Chewie said. “It’ll pass in time.”

“Carbonite . . .”

“Hux had you frozen. But I . . . I’m here. I’ve got you now. And I’m never letting go.” The words spilled out of her before she could stop herself, but as soon as she heard them, she knew them to be true.

Ben’s lips parted. She had stunned him into silence. She waited for him to deny it, to tell her she was wrong, it was impossible. She _dared_ him to try.

But he never got the chance to speak.

Instead, a strange, dull sound echoed throughout the room. _Clap—clap—clap._

Rey turned to find Hux and Chewie standing near the throne room door. The lights flared on, and Rey had to blink against blinding pain as her eyes adjusted. Hux, very deliberately and slowly, clapped his gloved hands together, a smug smile on his face. The bastard.

“What a touching reunion,” he said. “Pity it won’t last long.”

 

           

             

 

  
  
  
 

           

 

           

             

           

  


	2. Ben

Ben Solo stood in a temple full of ghosts.

He tried to speak, but silence smothered him. At the edges of his vision, the temple walls danced, not quite as solid as they should be. And before him, around him, were the ghosts of past Jedi.

_You’re not supposed to be here_. Ben felt rather than heard the words as they echoed through his veins. The speaker separated himself from the others, stepping into Ben’s line of sight. He wore the white robes of the Jedi, but the sorrow in his eyes spoke volumes. Like Ben, he, too, had a scar across his right eye. There was something almost familiar about this stranger. _Remember who you are._

Remember—Ben jolted in surprise as visions filled his head. A kyber crystal bled red between his palms. His lightsaber carved a bloody path through an old man’s chest. A skeleton smiled from upon his throne—

_Kylo Ren._ Ben thought the words, rather than trying to speak them. _I’m Kylo Ren._

_That’s not what I meant,_ said the stranger, and he looked almost irritated now.

A second ghost appeared. This one, Ben recognized. He staggered back from the familiar form of his uncle Luke.

_Go easy on him,_ Luke told the other ghost. _He’s young and foolish._

Ben choked, anger coursing through his veins. _How_ dare—

_I can’t pretend I don’t know what that’s like,_ said the first ghost with a sigh, unfazed by Ben’s response. He turned. _You have another chance._ His sad eyes dug into the marrow of Ben’s bones. _Don’t waste it._

_Rey._ Those words summoned the memory of her as if she stood before him: lips curled upward, head tilted, eyes calm. He tried to speak to her before coming here, but there was no way his message had gone through. Something in him shriveled at the thought.

He’d lost her. Forever. And all without saying—without telling her—

_Don’t be so sure._ Luke spoke again, stepping forward, his voice quiet. _No one’s ever really gone._

#

Kylo woke with a shuddering breath. His lungs ached as if he had been drowning. The temple was gone, and instead he found himself walled in by darkness, save for a blurred white light.

The light spoke in a familiar voice.

“Ben,” said Rey, over and over, her lips grazing his temple, his cheek. He shivered as sensation returned to his limbs, tingling and painful.

“Rey,” he said. She was here. She was really here.

The past few months came back to him in a rush of realization. Rey, whispering in his ear at night as her fingers trailed along his scar. Hux, creeping ever closer to power. The cold loss of feeling that came with the ysalamiri cages, followed by impotent rage as he descended into the carbonite pit. His last, vain effort to reach her, with the apology she deserved long before. _Rey. I’m sorry._

And here she was.

He tried to say, _That’s impossible. You can’t be here. You_ shouldn’t _be here._ But before he could speak, she said, “You’re safe now.”

He turned his face in the direction of her voice. “I—I can’t see you.”

“Carbon sickness. It’ll pass in time.”

Of course. Carbonite. He’d heard the story more times than he could count. It was one of his earliest memories: he no more than a toddler, his dad bouncing him on his lap. _You know you found your match when she breaks you out of carbonite._ Han hesitated. _Not that I want that to happen to you._

Kylo must have spoken the word aloud, because Rey said, “Hux had you frozen. But I . . . I’m here. I’ve got you now. And I’m never letting go.”

He wondered if his ears had lost function as well as his eyes. It was something he’d wanted so desperately to hear for so long that his mind could easily have conjured it from the delirium of sickness, too. He opened his mouth to give some response—to find out if her words could possibly be true—but nothing came.

Instead, he heard a _clap-clap-clap_ that echoed like his own heartbeat.

“What a touching reunion,” Hux said. “Pity it won’t last long.”

Rey tensed beside Kylo, shifting until she stood between him and the sound of Hux’s voice. “General Hux.”

“Supreme Leader, actually. Or did you forget?” Hux’s voice changed, as if he were facing another direction. “I’ll make sure you’re well paid for the tip.”

A series of familiar grunts in Shyriiwook made Kylo’s pulse trip and stutter. _Chewie._ Thanking Hux for the extra payment. But that meant . . .

Something was happening here that Kylo didn’t understand.

He shifted, reaching out until his hand connected with Rey’s leg. His fingers traced their way upward until they wrapped around her trousers at her kneeline. She was trembling, but her voice was clear as she said, “I’ll give you one last chance. Let us go, and I’ll spare your life.”

“Spare my—!” Hux broke up into laughter. “Perhaps I should keep you unfrozen for a bit of light entertainment.” His voice was smug. “It is _you_ who should be begging _me_ for mercy, Jedi. And you,” Hux said, his voice sharpening. “Pathetic. You’re as useless as an untrained child. What would Snoke think of you now?”

Kylo didn’t need his vision back to know the words were directed at him. His hand tightened on Rey’s knee, and she moved a half-step back, until her hip bumped his shoulder and her hand came to rest at the nape of his neck. The warmth from her body shielded some of the unbearable cold. He swallowed back against a wave of nausea.

_Y_ _salamiri._

Belatedly Kylo realized the frozen numbness he felt was more than just carbon sickness. Hux had brought the Force-blocking creatures to his throne room. And yet . . . Kylo’s mind tripped over the puzzle of Rey being here once again. Was it possible she received his message after all?

“Snoke died underestimating us,” said Rey, her voice calm yet firm. “Would you like to do the same?”

“Don’t tell me you actually _care_ for him,” said Hux. He laughed again, and Kylo’s stomach twisted. “I wonder if your precious Resistance knows that?”

Rey sucked in a breath to speak, but before she could, a bevy of footsteps pattered into the room. “My lord. We’ve been looking for you. The Chandrilans are revolting!”

“I know,” said Hux smoothly, his voice amused. “They’re horrid. But soon we’ll be free of this hellscape, and I can rule the galaxy in peace—”

“No, I mean, they’re arming themselves. They’re marching on the Senate Plaza!”

“What?” A note of panic entered Hux’s voice. “What do you mean, arming themselves? Get all the troops we have out there at once!”

“Of course, my lord. And you—?”

"Ready my ship,” Hux said. “And leave your men behind to escort me. These two are coming with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Rey muttered from above Kylo’s head. A bit louder, she called, “Chewie!”

Everything after that was a blur.

Kylo heard something fly through the air, landing with a _thunk_ in Rey’s hand. Then, the familiar sound of a lightsaber igniting— _her_ lightsaber, the one they had rebuilt together—buzzed in his ears. A fierce desire to see her in that moment swept through him. His imagination would have to do. He pictured her as she must look now: dark eyes blazing, lips curled in a snarl, twin blue blades of the new two-sided lightsaber sparking from their broken crystals. A flash of pride speared him. He felt the heat of the saber in the air and tasted burning on his tongue.

An instant later, the whine of blaster shots filled the room, accompanied by the lower tone of Chewie’s bowcaster. Kylo flinched in memory at the sound of a few bodies hitting the carpeted floor. Ahead of him, he heard Rey twisting and lunging to block fire. The sound of Hux screaming at the Stormtroopers for protection underlined it all.

It was a full-on firestorm.

And just as Hux said, Kylo was as useless as an untrained child.

Something else flew through the air, hitting the carpet and sliding to a halt at his knee. He reached for it and felt metal and heat—a blaster. Clumsy, but at least he had a weapon.

Though it wasn’t very useful for the man who was blind.

“Just in case,” Rey said, and he heard an apology in her voice. “Stay here. I’m going to get Hux.”

“Wait—”

“It’s okay,” she said, kneeling until her face was a blur of light before his. “It’s part of the plan.” Then, swiftly and roughly, she kissed him.

She tasted as she always did, of sweetness and warmth, and the contact sent shockwaves through Kylo’s core. Before she pulled away, he felt a brush of something against his mind. Something familiar. It temporarily parted the curtain of cold weighing him down.

Their bond.

“Wait—” he said again as she pulled away and stood, her double blades singing through the air. Too late. But Kylo knew what he felt. Somehow, their Force bond was enough to overcome the terrible heaviness of the ysalamiri cages.

It explained how Rey was here. She’d heard him. Somehow, impossibly, his words had gotten through.

He closed his eyes—not that it changed much—and reached out for the Force. He met a wall of emptiness immediately, and its coldness made his stomach turn. But he gritted his teeth against it and endured, focusing his energy on Rey. He could hear her lightsaber spinning and roaring as she worked her way through the troopers to reach Hux. He focused every atom of his body on the sound.

Slowly, the image of her took shape in his mind. Not her actual appearance, with her rough clothes and her hair escaping its bun and the freckles on her upper arms; no, the appearance she carried in the Force. She was like a blazing fire, a torch in the dark, and Kylo followed that light like a weary traveler until the warmth reached his bones.

When he could see her, _feel_ her, the wall came crumbling down.

The Force flooded him with its overwhelming power. He staggered upright, carrying the blaster with him, but he hardly needed it now. He had the Force instead.

Kylo heard Rey gasp across the room and knew she was feeling the same rush of sensation. Somehow their connection was enough. Reaching for her, Kylo allowed his Force signature to bleed into hers, lending some of himself as fuel for her flame. In his mind’s eye, the fire engulfed him, but it didn’t hurt. Rather, it lifted him up, flaring with light and weightlessness until he staggered under its joyful blaze.

He felt—he felt _free._

He opened his eyes. On one level, he saw only darkness, but as he drew off the power of the Force bond, the room began to take shape. He saw through Rey’s eyes as she carved a path to Hux, who was cowering behind his last troopers, blood smeared across his cheek. Chewie roared on her other side, fighting against two troopers at once. As Kylo watched from Rey’s peripheral vision, Chewie knocked one of them out with his bowcaster.

Kylo’s hands tightened on the blaster. In the corner of Rey’s eyes, he saw himself, loose black undershirt untucked from his trousers. He lined up a shot. Difficult to do from across the room and different eyes, but he tried it all the same. He took a deep breath.

Rey seemed to realize what he was planning. He caught the confusion and wonder in her voice as she cried, “How are you doing this?” But he ignored it. He could explain later—perhaps, if there was an explanation for this at all.

In two quick trigger pulls, he fired.

Both remaining Stormtroopers beside Hux went down, holes smoking in their chests. At the same moment, Chewie dropped the last trooper before him. After the sound of all three hitting the floor, silence fell. Kylo heard only his own heartbeat and the buzz of Rey’s lightsaber blades.

"Impressive,” said Hux. He was trying to play it off as if he weren’t intimidated, but by the fear in his eyes, that wasn’t true. He kept glancing toward the ysalamiri cages with a wrinkled brow as if concerned they weren’t functioning properly. Just for good measure, Kylo turned his blaster and fired off two more rounds. The cages fell, sparking, to the floor, and the terrible coldness evaporated like puddles in the sun.

Hux’s jaw moved, eyes bugging out at the sight of the decimated cages. After a long moment, he struggled for words. “There—there’s been a misunderstanding. My lord—”

Still wrapped in Rey’s vision, Kylo say his own features twist in anger. It was nothing compared to the rage he felt inside. Before he could stop himself, he lifted his free hand. Hux began to choke, grasping at his own throat.

_No. Ben—not this way._

The words reached him from within his mind, like they had in his dream at the Jedi temple. But they were in Rey’s voice. They carried the tenderness he’d grown used to during their quiet nights together, along with the conviction that he so envied. How he longed to know his own mind as she knew hers. And how he ached to hear her disappointed in him.

_I’m not disappointed,_ she said.

Kylo’s lips twisted in a bitter, doubting smile. Hux still struggled for breath.

_I’m_ not, she said, more fiercely. _But I know you, Ben Solo. You’re better than this._

He loosened in surprise at those words, his hand falling slack. Hux sucked in a huge breath, but Kylo barely heard.

Was it possible after all they had gone through that Rey still believed in him?

_Yes,_ she said. _I never stopped._

He heard the smile in her voice. And the ever-present conviction.

That was when the blaster went off.

Things happened fast. Kylo saw through Rey’s eyes as she jerked in surprise, then dropped her gaze to the blaster in Hux’s hands. It had been on his belt the entire time. Instinct took over, and the blue lightsaber blurred through the air as Rey responded. But not quickly enough.

Kylo fired without hesitation, seeing only the blaster and its proximity to Rey. Hux flinched as the bolt sliced through his chest, right over his heart. He coughed in surprise, and blood dripped down his lips.

Then, chillingly, Hux smiled.

Rey blinked, and he fell to the ground.

Chewie roared. Rey cut her lightsaber, the silence falling heavy around the room. “It’s done,” she said. She sounded breathless.

Kylo felt their shared powers receding as he pulled back into himself. The room went dark again as he lost contact with her eyes. Before his path disappeared completely, he crossed the room in quick strides, finding his way to her. As everything went black save for her pale, blurred form, he wrapped his arms around her.

And he found that he didn’t need eyes to see. His hands traced the shape of her instead, making her solid. First he gripped her tight to him, feeling the trembling between her shoulders, the unsteadiness of her breath. Then his hands slid down her shoulder blades, following the curve of her small waist, clenching the fabric at the small of her back. He bent down and buried his face in her mussed hair, and the scent of soap and sweat and sunshine filled his nostrils. Her breath tickled the exposed hollow of his throat. His pulse leapt as she pressed a kiss to that spot.

Then his hands were reading her again. They explored up her arms to her shoulders, his fingertips grazing skin between her arm bands and her tunic. She shivered at the gentle touch. Next, his fingers tangled in her hair, thumbs rubbing along her cheekbones. He was surprised when they came away wet.

She was crying.

“Rey,” he said, as he relearned the parts of her that had become so familiar to his eyes. She felt new beneath his fingers.

“Ben,” she whispered back, and he could hear that she smiled through her tears. Then she moved her hands from his chest, and he felt cold at the lack of her. There was something in her voice—some hesitation—something he still didn’t understand.

That was when her hand came back to his cheek.

And it felt sticky.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But whatever you just did—you were _wonderful._ ”

Then she collapsed in his arms.

“Chewie!” Kylo shouted. Rey got heavier by the instant, until she was no longer standing on her own. Kylo’s hands held her up, trailing down until they found the patch of wetness over her gut.

Hux’s blaster. It hadn’t struck the wall or the floor, as Kylo suspected.

It had struck Rey.

“No,” he said. The word ripped its way out of his throat. “No! Chewie, how bad is it?”

Chewie’s grunts and moans did not give the answer Kylo wanted.

“Don’t you have a medkit? Something?”

Another grunt. Chewie was at Kylo’s side now, reaching for Rey.

“I’ve got her,” Kylo said, swooping her into his arms. She was lighter than she should’ve been. He forgot his blindness, his carbon sickness. In that moment, he thought only of the words beating through his heart.

_She can’t die. She_ won’t _die._

“You lead,” Kylo told Chewie. “I’ll follow. _Fast._ Once we get to your ship, we should be able to stop the bleeding.”

Chewie didn’t say anything. Kylo knew what his silence meant. A gut wound—that was the worst kind, the kind no bacta patch could conveniently stitch up while Rey was sleeping.

Kylo forced the thought from his head.

_She won’t die._

Somehow he made his way out of the throne room. His feet managed to find their places, one after the other, as he carried Rey down the hallway, following Chewie by sound rather than sight. They turned a few corners, until Kylo’s mental image of the place was lost, and all he could do was clutch her close and hurry. Sweat poured down his back. His throat closed up with dryness. But he kept going.

After what felt like eternity, Chewie held open a final door, and a blast of a sea breeze hit Kylo in the face. They were out. Judging by the cool temperature, it was the middle of the night. Distantly, he heard the sound of waves, or so he thought, until he listened more closely. Chanting. The people of Chandrila really were staging a rebellion.

His life as Supreme Leader of the First Order felt oddly distant now, as if it had been happening to some other person.

All he knew was Rey. His weakened heartbeat might as well have been hers—or vice versa. That’s how tied they were. And he knew in his soul that if she died, he died with her.

And he wouldn’t even mind.

A world without her was unthinkable.

Chewie grunted. Kylo heard the sadness in his voice and ignored it. They’d reached the getaway ship.

“What happened?” asked a vaguely familiar voice over the sound of the ship’s ramp lowering. “If you hurt her—” Footsteps clattered down the ramp toward Kylo, and a pair of strong arms tried to pry Rey from his grasp.

Kylo clutched her closer. “If you touch her again, it’ll be the last thing you do,” he said.

“I told her this would happen. I told her—Kriff, Rey, hold on.” The traitor—Rey’s friend—what did she call him? Finn. Finn spoke directly to her, ignoring Kylo completely. It made the hair on Kylo’s neck stand up, but then again, there would be time to punch him later.

“We need a medkit,” Kylo said pointedly, anger searing his voice.

“This way.”

Kylo followed Finn’s footsteps up the ramp, careful not to bump Rey’s head. It wasn’t until he crossed the ship’s threshold and the familiar smell of metal and leather hit his nose that he realized where they were.

The _Falcon._

Time to process that later. For now, he could only be grateful that this was the one ship he could navigate blind. He knew instinctively where to find an alcove to lay Rey down, and beneath it, the drawer where they kept the medkits. He yanked it open, shoving Finn aside, and pulled out the first one he could find by touch. “Bacta patches,” he said, digging his way through the supplies.

“Right here.” Finn reached over and pulled something out. “What’s the matter with you? Can’t you see?”

Chewie groaned something, then stomped away in what sounded like the direction of the cockpit.

“Unbelievable,” said Finn in response, but Kylo wasn’t listening. He was too busy preparing the bacta patch, his heart in his throat. Without hesitation, he reached out and began to untie the cord at Rey’s neck that held her tunic in place.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Finn asked.

“I’m healing her,” said Kylo through gritted teeth. “And you’re staying the hell out of my way.”

“I’ll do this part—”

Kylo ignored him, physically crowding the alcove until Finn had no way of getting close enough to touch. He worked as quickly as he could without eyesight, untying her tunic, lifting it gently over her head. How opposite he’d felt the last time he’d done this. Then, his frantic heartbeat had been for an entirely different reason.

When the tunic came all the way off, Rey moaned and shifted, and Kylo’s breath stuttered in his lungs. Feeling his way across her now-bared stomach, his fingers stilled when he found the wound. Sickness washed over him.

It was a gaping hole to the left of her bellybutton. By the stickiness of her stomach, it had been bleeding freely during their escape. He hurried to place the bacta patch over it, his hands shaking as he did so.

“It’s not enough,” Finn said, his voice sounding as lost as Kylo felt. “It’s not enough . . .”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Kylo growled at him. “Somewhere more useful?”

Beneath their feet, the engines of the _Falcon_ roared to life. Kylo staggered to keep his balance as they lifted off, and still Finn hadn’t moved.

“Rey,” he whispered, and Kylo hated the tenderness in his voice. He hated it so much, a surge of violence rose in him. Anger like none he’d known before soured the taste in his mouth, and his fingers itched for the lightsaber still attached to Rey’s belt.

One quick cut. That’s all it would take.

But Kylo heard her voice in his head. _Ben. Not this way._

“Rey?” he asked, dropping to his knees so his face was inches from hers. Finn muttered a protest, but Kylo ignored him. Could it have been her? In his head?

No answer came.

“Rey . . .” Kylo bent his forehead to her shoulder, and the contact felt clammy and hot. “Don’t leave me like this. Please.”

Beside him, Finn shifted. Kylo waited with held breath for some kind of answer.

Nothing.

Rey’s breathing became a rattle in her lungs. Blood began to seep into the cushion where she rested—Kylo felt it soaking into his own tunic where he leaned against her. A quick brush of his fingers verified that the bacta patch was soaked in it, and still she grew weaker.

She was really dying.

The rage Kylo felt toward Finn a moment earlier suddenly made sense. In a rush of clarity, Kylo saw himself raging not against Rey’s friend, but against the world—the galaxy—the universe. All the anger that had ever strangled him before was nothing compared to the sheer injustice he felt at the idea of Rey dying without him.

He simply refused to let that be.

“Isn’t there something you can do?” Finn asked, his voice low. “I know you have—powers. Like her. I wouldn’t ask you for anything, not for myself, but for Rey . . .” He swallowed thickly. His voice choked on the word. “Please.”

_Please. Pleasepleaseplease._ It was an echo of the only word Kylo could still elucidate in his thoughts.

“I can’t . . .” he said aloud. Force healing was something he hadn’t tried since his teenage years at Luke’s temple. He’d never been good at it back then—he was far too clumsy and quick to anger for such careful, light use of the Force. And now, ironically, it was the one skill that could save Rey’s life.

He swallowed back the taste of bile.

He had to try.

“Move back,” he ordered. Finn obeyed. Left alone beside Rey, Kylo closed his eyes, blocking out everything except the sound of her breathing. Their bond had proven useful once before. Perhaps it could heal her now.

Her Force signature was easy to find after they’d been so closely entangled in the throne room. In an instant, he was drawing off her heat, except the blaze had dulled to a pile of sparks. It frightened him anew, how much that pile had lost its glow. One gust of wind, and it would go out forever.

He refused to let that happen. He positioned himself around the sparks of her life force in his mind, protecting her from harm with his wide form. He imagined not a gust of wind, but a gentle breath, the flow of oxygen to her flames. Enough to build her up, that was all. One breath at a time.

Air in. Held breath. Air out. Slow.

The embers glowed as he fed their heat.

_Please, Rey._ He imagined his own life force flaming up and flowing into hers, keeping her alight. Each lick of flame brushed her weak spots—the injury—and burned away emptiness, stoking her back to life. Slowly, _so slowly_ , her embers began to catch fire. Her life force started as small as a candle flame. It took all the patience Kylo had ever felt to fan that flame slowly, until it became two candles, then a blaze, then a burning fire.

She shifted. Back in his physical state, he felt her move. But she wasn’t awake yet.

Now that the fire was back, it needed fuel to grow. Kylo sensed this instinctively, but he didn’t know how to provide for her. What could he offer to burn, if not himself?

He tried to let his Force signature flow into hers, as he had in the throne room, but it began to weaken him. He almost passed out himself before realizing that he was no good to her unconscious. He halted the flow and tried again. If not his own energy—could the strange power of their bond fuel her fire?

As soon as he thought of it, their Force bond flared between them like kindling, ready and waiting to burn. Rey’s energy reached out to it, and soon, her fire was blazing hot. As they had in the throne room, the flames of her Force signature licked at Kylo’s feet, but they didn’t consume him. They lifted him up.

The bond surrounded them both, a cocoon of golden flames, and the healing power within it flared eagerly to life. Ben felt his vision clearing, his sickness evaporating in the heat of what they shared. This power wasn’t like the power that he drew off when he fed from the Dark Side. This was its opposite—lightness where that was heavy, pure where that was corrupt. This was something altogether new and exhilarating.

“Rey! She’s awake! Whatever you did—” Finn’s voice brought Kylo back to reality, though a part of him still danced in the fire of the Force bond. “She’s okay!”

Kylo opened his eyes. Even the dim light of the _Falcon_ blinded him temporarily—but then his vision cleared, and he could see. Rey lay before him, her breastband soaked with blood, sweat beaded on her temple.

But her eyes were open.

And her stomach wound was closed.

She lifted a weak hand to him, and Kylo clasped it in his own. The scar where the blaster shot had pierced her was already pale against her tanned skin—as if it had been healing for months, not minutes. Then, the most beautiful image of all: Rey smiled.

“You brought me back,” she said, her voice so quiet he almost missed the words.

He swallowed. “No,” he said. His voice was hoarse. “It’s the other way around.”

For an instant, her smile grew. Then her eyelids wavered, and her head fell limply to the side. Panic knotted his throat for a moment, until he checked her pulse and realized she was merely sleeping. A wall of exhaustion hit him a moment after that. He let go of her hand, pulling out the old blanket from the drawer beneath her and wrapping her in place.

She could get cleaned up later. Sleep was better for now.

When Kylo turned, he started in surprise to find Finn still standing there, watching him.

“You really did that,” he said, awe in his voice.

Kylo felt nothing but tired. “I’m going to sleep now,” he said. And without waiting for an answer, he slid to the floor at Rey’s feet, rested his forehead on his knees, and slipped into oblivion.

#

Ben Solo was wrapped in the softness of a dream.

Warm fingers feathered their way up the nape of his neck, brushing into his hair. Their touch was so gentle, it lulled him into a state of utter contentedness. Beyond the blanket where he lay, pure white sand stretched in both directions, and he could hear the tender lullaby of waves.

The fingers stilled on his neck. A low moan escaped his throat in protest. The fingers moved again, followed by a breathless laugh from somewhere overhead. “You sleep too much,” said Rey.

He wrapped his arms around her without opening his eyes and pulled her down to lie beside him, sending sand flying into the air. She huffed out laughter during their brief faux-struggle before conceding defeat and shimmying close, lying her head on his chest. His hands knew her body like his blood knew her laugh, and as he tucked her head beneath his chin, a strange feeling washed over him.

Familiarity.

“Ben . . .” she began.

“Hm?”

Her fingers traced a path on his chest. “I have something to tell you . . .”

He turned so they were face to face. Rey’s green-brown eyes were shadowed in the cocoon of his arms. He was close enough to see the grains of sand stuck to her neck, the drying strands of hair along her temples. Close enough to lean forward and brush a kiss along her nose. “What is it?”

A smile began to grow across her face, oddly mischievous. “I love you,” she said.

His heart stopped, and he woke up.

#

Warm fingers rested on Kylo’s shoulder. When he woke with a jerk, they squeezed.

He took in his surroundings with increasing alarm. Gone were the silver-sand beach and lazy blue sky. Instead, the familiar worn interior of the _Millenium Falcon_ greeted him in their place. The engines hummed at hyperspeed volume beneath the floor where he sat.

Everything came back to him in a rush: the carbon sickness, Hux, Rey.

_Rey._  

He jerked around, and Rey’s hand slipped off his shoulder. “You’re awake,” she croaked. There were days over the course of their—his mind tripped over the word “relationship”—when she had looked healthier, certainly. Her hair lay in straggles across the cushion, and her skin was wan and shadowed beneath her eyes. The bit of breastband that he could see above her blanket was rust-brown and stiff from her dried blood.

Yet Kylo could not remember a sight more beautiful than her tentative smile.

Speechless, Kylo rose on his knees and rested his cheek on her stomach, wrapping his arms around her waist. He couldn’t think of words to express his gratitude at seeing her alive, awake, smiling. All he could do was hold her close.

“Whoa,” she said, going still beneath his touch. Slowly, her fingers moved to his hair and threaded there. “Maybe I should die more often.”

He sat up abruptly. The look on his face must have spoken volumes, because her smile faded and she said, “Too soon?”

He scanned her up and down, then let his arms fall away. “You need to get clean.”

“Thanks.” Now her voice turned dry. She moved to sit up also, but flinched at the movement. He hurried closer, holding out a hand to help her up. As her fingers slipped into his, he shivered.

The power of their bond still burned between them. After the events of the last evening, he felt like he’d grown a new shadow. Only unlike his real shadow, this one was made of fire and golden light. That, combined with his dream, unnerved him.

He was not the sort of person who cast shadows of light and dreamt of oceans.

At least, Kylo Ren was not that man.

“Rey!”

Rey dropped his hand and turned toward the sound of the voice. Kylo followed suit, resentment seething within him. But as Finn and—what was her name?—Rose crowded around Rey, hugging her close, he could not resent the smile they brought to Rey’s face. She leaned into them, her nose scrunching up. His heart hurt to watch her.

“I’m okay,” Rey said. “Look. Hale and hearty. I promise.”

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” said Finn.

“I heard you almost died,” said Rose, gripping Rey by the shoulders. Then she glanced over Rey’s shoulder, staring wide-eyed at Kylo. “I heard he saved you.”

Rey looked back, and his heart stumbled. “Yes,” she said quietly. “He did.”

Finn turned his gaze to Kylo as well, but his expression was decidedly more shuttered. “For the record,” he said, “I still really don’t like you.”

Kylo expected no less. “At least we have one thing in common,” he said.

Rose giggled. She covered her mouth when Kylo turned to stare. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t expect you to be funny.”

“If you ever hurt Rey, I’ll kill you myself,” said Finn, bringing Kylo’s attention back to him.

“Finn—” Rose began.

“It’s okay,” said Kylo, holding up a hand. He stared at Finn. “I guess that makes it two things.”

Finn blinked, clearly a bit taken aback by the admission. Then his eyes narrowed. Rey was glancing between them, a frown wrinkling her brow, and Kylo was ready to end the whole conversation on a mildly civil note just to make that line on her forehead go away.

Then Finn did something that surprised even Kylo.

He held his hand out to shake.

“Deal,” said Finn.

Kylo hesitated, then thought, why not? If it makes Rey smile again . . . He put his hand into Finn’s and shook hard. “Deal.”

And that was that.

A grunt from behind them all made Kylo turn. Before he could move, he found himself surrounded by furred, ropy arms and lifted bodily off the ground. Rey laughed as she was lifted along with him. Kylo choked on the familiar, musky scent of Chewie’s hair. Memories flooded him: of being five years old and gripping Chewie’s legs as he walked; of being ten and riding on his back; of being 29 and staring down the barrel of his bowcaster.

“It’s okay, Chewie,” Rey said. “I’m fine. We’re fine.” Fortunately she could talk. Kylo’s voice had suddenly ceased to work.

Chewie set them both down, moaning a query.

“It was Ben. _Ben_ saved me.”

Chewie turned his gaze to Kylo, who shifted uncomfortably. The chasm of unspoken words stretched between them, ever-widening. _I’m sorry_ wasn’t enough. _I miss him, too_ got tangled in Kylo’s throat. He swallowed—

\--and Chewie engulfed him in another hug before he could speak. The weight and warmth of the Wookiee’s arms surrounded him, blocking out time and history until there was only acceptance.

Kylo felt the beginnings of a strange sensation in his chest.           

“Right,” said Rey, unable to keep the smile out of her voice as Chewie stepped back. “I have to get clean.”

“Yeah, you do,” said Finn. She glared at him as she strode toward the cabins. Kylo fought back a surge of disappointment at watching her leave.

When she reached the cabin hallway, she stopped and turned back. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked him.

He glanced at the others. Rose’s mouth had fallen open, and Finn looked somewhat horrified. Chewie chuckled a bit in his quiet Wookiee way.

Kylo felt a flush creeping up the back of his neck. But he wasn’t about to say no.

“Of course,” he said instead, as if her question made total sense to him. As if she hadn’t just sent his stomach into freefall. He hurried to catch up.

#

If someone had told Kylo before Crait that he might one day be standing outside a fresher, watching as Rey slowly discarded every last bit of her shredded clothing, he probably would have Force choked whomever had the audacity to lie so boldly.

As it was, he could barely keep his throat from drying out.

Naked and unconcerned about it, Rey reached out and ran her fingers under the flowing water. “It’s warm,” she said, sending a look over her shoulder.

All right, so she wasn’t unconcerned. A faint blush beneath her freckles defied the confidence in her stare. She had done this to him the moment she kissed him: disarmed him and intimidated him all at once. She’d done that before she kissed him, really. As soon as he saw her face.

He swallowed, stepping forward until he stood within arm’s reach. His entire body cried out to be closer, sliding his skin against hers. He grew hard at the thought. At the same time, he hesitated.

Even though he’d been with her before, he’d always been able to draw the line. After the events of the previous evening, and with their bond still sparking between them, he wasn’t sure he could.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Fear flashed through him, beneath the desire. It must’ve shown on his face—or perhaps trickled through the bond—for Rey closed the gap between them, sliding her hands around his waist. “What’s wrong?” she murmured. “Talk to me.”

He scanned her naked body again without meaning to. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Freckles blew across her breasts like a dusting of sand. Her rosy nipples tightened beneath his gaze. At the center of her legs, a small patch of dark curls marked her most sensitive place.  Even her scars added to her beauty. They made her human. They made her _real._

Tentatively, he reached out and brushed his fingers along the newest scar on her stomach. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. As he’d told her before, the last time they met.

“You won’t hurt me,” Rey said, and his heart fluttered at the certainty in her voice. “But that’s not what you’re really afraid of, is it?”

“What?” He tried to pull back, indignant. But her arms held him to her. As she peered up to meet his eyes, steel came into her voice.

“You’re not afraid of hurting me. You’re afraid of hurting yourself.”

“That’s not true. That’s—ridiculous.” But his heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could feel it through his clothes.

Her smile was knowing. She flattened a palm in the middle of his chest. “I see it now. How could I not have seen it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She leaned up on her tiptoes, pulling his forehead down to meet hers. “I won’t hurt you, Ben. I promise. You can fall.” Her gaze reached into him and tugged on the strings of his soul. “I’ll catch you.”

For several breaths, he didn’t move. He waited for her to laugh, to pull away, to change her mind. But she didn’t. She stayed pressed against him, fingers twined in his hair, heart beating in unison with his own.

Waiting.

“Rey . . .” he began. How could he explain? How could he tell her that he wasn’t the sort of person people waited for? That she should give up, move on, like all the rest . . .

But she hadn’t. When he cried out from across the universe . . .

She came.

 “Kriff it,” he said, and dropped his mouth to hers.

The kiss surged through him like an electric shock. His arms moved of their own accord, wrapping around her waist and lifting her up to better access her mouth. She gasped, then returned the kiss with gusto, tongue pressing its way between his lips. He moaned at the prick of her nipples through his tunic, the drape of her legs against his. He could feel all of her, and still it wasn’t enough.

“Shirt,” she said, pulling back to tug at his chest. He let her slide to the ground and released her long enough to tug it up over his head. Her hands were on his trousers a moment later, and his heart tried to beat its way out of his chest.

She paused at the look on his face. “It’s okay,” she said. The smile that she saved for him—mischievous with a tenderness that made his chest ache—spread across her features. “I’ve waited for this moment a long time.”

He grimaced. “You’ll pay for that, scavenger,” he said, and she _laughed_ , and her laughter was a miracle. A moment later, her fingers brushed the sensitive skin at his pelvis and began to tug his pants away.

When he stepped out of them and stood before her, naked and erect, he struggled against the flush of heat rising up his neck. He resisted the urge to cross his arms over his groin, protecting himself from view. But Rey’s gaze traveled up and down him, landing solidly between his legs, and the hungry curiosity there made his stomach clench.

_She wanted him._

If he hadn’t felt the flash of desire from her through their bond, he almost wouldn’t have believed it.

She reached out and took his hand, and the awkward silence was no longer awkward. It was heavy with anticipation. As she led him toward the fresher, his pulse blended with the roar of the water, deafening him. Then they were both under the warm stream, and her body slid against his.

She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him again, and her nipples trailed across his chest, sending heat straight to his groin. As she pressed closer, she brushed his erection, and a head-splitting wave of pleasure spiked through him.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked her, water streaming into his eyes.

“Yes,” she said. She kissed his neck, and he trembled. “ _Yes._ ”

It was everything he needed to hear. He lifted her up and pressed her against the wall, kissing his way down her throat. Her legs wrapped around his waist, until his cock pressed into her thigh, and he moaned into her skin. It would be so easy to shift just a _little_ to the left and slide into her. But he didn’t want to rush this.

Just in case it never happened again—he wanted to go slow.

Her head tipped back as he trailed kisses down her neck. The water hit the top of her head, but she didn’t seem to mind. It slid down her temples and Kylo licked it off, kissing his way down to her breasts. Bending low, he took one of her small pink nipples in his mouth.

“Oh—” she said, her legs flexing around him. Her fingers dugs into his back.

He lifted his head. The sight of her, flushed red and dripping, he wanted memorized forever. “Bad?”

“Good,” she insisted, opening her eyes. She had to blink through the water, and eventually gave up as his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “Very good,” she said. She sounded almost pained.

“Hmm,” he said. “I’m not convinced.” He moved to her other breast and sucked it, then nipped a little with his teeth.

She writhed around him. “Mean,” she said. “I should have known.”

“Should I stop?”

“No!” She gripped him harder. “No, please, no.”

He smiled, tonguing her nipple again. She arched into him, giving him more access. She was so small and perfect. He wanted to replicate this moment a thousand times more, a hundred thousand, in beds and on ships and on blankets. Surely, though, that was too much to hope for.

_Don’t think about it,_ he told himself. _Enjoy what you have._

He began to lower himself to the fresher floor, kissing his way down her stomach as he moved. He lifted her legs and draped them over his shoulders as he landed on his knees. From that angle, he had a perfect view of her.

And she was just as beautiful there as she had been everywhere else.

It was her turn to shift her hands and block herself from view. When he glanced up to her face, her blush had intensified.

"Don’t,” he said. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

“But . . .” Under his gaze, she let her hands fall aside. “I don’t know . . .”

He kissed the inside of her thigh, and she shivered. “You’re perfect,” he said.

“Even . . . there?” Her voice came out small.

“Especially here.” He bent forward, speaking right against her folds. “I’ll show you.”

She trembled at the brush of his lips. When his tongue swirled up her center, she cried out, legs quivering. The sound of her pleasure sent shockwaves through his core, tightening his crotch even further. The taste of her was tangy on his tongue. He began to doubt if he would outlast her.

Carefully, he slid a finger inside.

His cock hardened further in anticipation. She was wet and tight. Her eyes were closed again, but her lips parted, water dripping past them, and the sound of her moan almost put him over the edge. She shifted a little, lifting her pelvis to take more of his finger inside, and he practically felt the motion on his cock.

He began to move his finger in and out, and she swallowed, biting her lip. Her breathing grew heavy. He could watch the signs of her pleasure for days. Carefully, his eyes on her face, he slid a second finger inside. Her legs twitched on his shoulders and her eyes scrunched up as she bit her lip. Another moan escaped, and heat coursed through him.

It was all he could do to hold back.

Still moving his fingers, he bent his head and tasted her again, his tongue seeking the tiny nub of pleasure that only his fingers had found before. He’d learned the shape of her by touch, but never by taste, and as his tongue circled her clit, he savored her saltiness. He timed the strokes of his tongue to the careful thrust of his fingers— _slowly, slowly—_ until her ragged breaths became low moans, and her legs were shaking. She moved in time to the rhythm, her eyes closed as she lost herself to pleasure. Far shorter than he expected, he felt her tighten inside, reaching nearer to her climax. He increased his speed, steeling himself so he would last through the sound and feel of her coming. It was going to be difficult not to let go.

No sooner had he thought it than he _felt_ her reach her peak—not only through his fingers, clenched tight in her walls, but through the bond. A lightning bolt of pleasure struck him as she came. He gritted his teeth together to keep from coming himself. Easing his fingers in and out, in and out, he let her ride the wave as her cries subsided to ragged breathing. Then, very cautiously, he removed his fingers and watched her open her eyes.

Her face was flushed beneath the warm water. “That was . . .” She shook her head.

He slipped her legs off his shoulders, lowering them to the floor before he stood. “I’m assuming speechlessness is a good thing,” he said, struggling to keep his tone light. He didn’t want her to know how shaken he was by the experience. His heart was still racing fire through his veins.

She laughed, and his pulse spiked. Leaning forward, she wrapped him in a tight embrace and squeezed. “I think I’ll stick to senseless moaning.”

Heat pooled in his stomach at the memory. “That works for me.”

She glanced up, her gaze turning shy. “So . . .” She hesitated. “How about we try the bed?”

His body cried out for it, but . . . “We don’t have to. Only if you want.”

She leaned back, her brow wrinkling. “Ben. Listen to me now. _I want._ ”

Kriff, she would kill him. Making a split-second decision, he turned off the water behind them, scooped her into his arms, and kicked their way out of the fresher door. She laughed as it flew open and banged against the wall. A moment later, her laughter turned to a gasp as he lay her down on the bed. Wet hair clung to her neck and dripped down her breasts. He didn’t care. He crawled over her, careful to maintain eye contact the whole time, seeking through the bond to determine if this was truly what she desired.

The answering flame of heat was reassuring indeed.

He settled over her. Her legs clung to his waist as he shifted position, trying to find her entrance.

“Here,” she said, reaching down with a nervous smile. Her fingers brushed his pelvis as they sought his cock. When they closed around him, he groaned, shutting his eyes against the sheer rush of blood from his brain. In the darkness, he saw stars.

“Careful,” he said. “It’s very—sensitive.” He felt the flush returning to his neck. Perhaps he should be a bit more honest with her. “I’ve never . . .”

“It’s all right,” she whispered, lining him up so that his tip pressed into her wetness. Torture indeed. “Neither have I.”

He opened his eyes. The trust and anticipation in her gaze made his throat tighten. She wriggled a little, trying to ease him inside her. She wanted this.

Gritting his teeth, he entered her in one quick thrust.

“Kriff,” he said, burying his face in the crook of her neck. The feel of her was exquisite, painful pleasure. She had gone stiff, and an instant later, he realized he must have hurt her. He pulled back. “I’m sorry—”

She gripped him tightly. “No. I’m all right. It only hurts a bit. And it also feels . . .” She arched her pelvis to take in more of him. He bit down on his tongue to contain himself. “It feels . . . good.”

Just good? She must not be experiencing the same thing as he, then. This was—this was unlike anything he’d felt before, and he hadn’t even moved.

Her brow wrinkled as she studied his face. “Doesn’t it feel good to you?”

“You have no idea.” He hesitated. “I’m afraid if I move I might . . .”

A grin split her face. “Really? _That_ good?”

Somehow the playful banter put him at ease. He pressed into her again, and she gasped a little. “Don’t get cocky, scavenger,” he said.

She moved, too, matching her hips to his rhythm. “But I thought that was the whole point,” she said, faux innocence in her voice.

He let out a breathless laugh, which surprised him so much he almost stopped moving. He hadn’t laughed in—he didn’t know how long. He realized with a sense of unreality that he was— _happy._ Infinitely happy. Light.

Free.

Rey was smiling, too, though her smile faded and gave way to heady pleasure as Kylo moved faster within her. Her eyes fell closed with heavy lids and she began to moan again. Each sound sent shockwaves through him, spiking the pleasure at his core. He let go of the strangeness and lost himself to the feeling after that. His existence reduced itself to the tightness of her around him, the dig of her fingernails into his back, the little sounds she was making, the rhythm of her heart. Or was that his own? He hardly knew the difference.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, and he couldn’t even find the words to tell her how little she had to fear in that regard. He never wanted to stop.

Her legs began to tremble around his waist, shaking like they had in the fresher. She was close. Just the idea of that made his own pleasure sharpen, and he plunged into her, deeper and harder than before. Her moans increased, and he felt her need through the bond, which doubled his own. His skin began to prickle. _So close._

Rey opened her eyes and stared up at him, lips parted, lust furrowing her brow.

He let go.

Waves of pleasure overtook him. He was drowning in her, and he didn’t care. He heard himself cry out and Rey followed suit, her voice mingling with his. Her body clenched and tightened in spasms around him as he emptied himself into her.

When it was over, the wave receded, leaving him shaken on the shore. Rey pulled at his back until he lowered himself upon her. He could feel her heartbeat matching his own.

After a long time, she said, “Speechless?”

He pulled back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Just about.” He studied her. He’d thought the sight of her in the fresher was the one he’d carry away, but he was wrong. _This_ was the image he wanted to remember: Rey wearing the flush he’d given her, lips still parted to catch her breath, a contented smile playing across her features. A bit of cockiness lingered in her eyes, too. Satisfaction. That was the word.

He would remember her this way forever.

Slipping out of her, he rolled aside, shifting until the blanket covered his waist. “Thank you,” he said. His voice came out mostly even, which was a feat in itself.

She turned until she rested on her elbow, facing him. “Thank you? That’s all you have to say?”

He met her eyes. “It seems appropriate.”

“Appropriate?” She tilted her head. “Okay, well, I have something to say, too.”

“You’re welcome?” he guessed, hoping to prompt a smile.

But she turned very serious. She swallowed, and fear clenched his heart.

She was going to tell him it could never happen again. Just as he’d suspected. He opened his mouth to tell her he already knew, but—

“I love you,” she said.

His entire body froze. “What?”

“I love you.” Her eyes were defiant, as if she dared him to disagree.

“I . . .” His head spun. He sat up, pressing his back against the headboard of the bed to put some distance between them.

Rey sat up, too, tucking the blanket beneath her arms to cover herself. “You don’t have to say anything,” she said. “But I want you to know.”

“You,” he said. Words wouldn’t come.

She waited.

“You . . . love me.”

“Yes.”

“And you . . . don’t expect anything from me.”

“Ben. That’s not how love works,” she said, and her face was the defiant face of the girl in Snoke’s throne room who believed Ben Solo was worth saving. Her determination was the same as what she’d shown back then, summoning his lightsaber from across the room. Fighting until the end.

She wasn’t the type to give up easily.

“I’m not joining the Resistance,” he said. Not what he meant to say, but the words spilled out all the same.

Something flashed in her eyes, but she said, “That’s all right. I won’t make you.”

“I won’t go back there.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll come with you.”

“I don’t know where I’m going.” His pulse raced.

“I know,” she said with a wry smile. “That’s all right. We’ll figure it out.”

“Rey . . .”

“Ben.” She stared him down.

“I can’t . . .” He stopped. Swallowed. He had to choose his words wisely, to make her understand.

Something in him hesitated. It was the same strange part of himself that had just been happy, that had danced in the light of his Force bond the night before. It was an unused limb, a weak muscle, but it was there—and it grabbed for his attention now.

_What if you can?_ that part of him asked.

Could it really be that simple? Just like that, dropping everything, choosing to create something new? He thought of all he’d be leaving behind—the First Order in chaos and leaderless, a galaxy that he could have ruled. But it felt like clothes that no longer fit him, a discarded cloak he no longer needed to wear.

Perhaps he really could start over.

He met Rey’s eyes. Her gaze was steady, patient, waiting for whatever words would come. And he knew now innately that no matter what he said, she wouldn’t give up on him.

A surge of emotion overpowered him. It started in his chest and grew, aching and bittersweet. It _hurt._ But it felt warm and huge and humbling. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

When he did, he blinked in shock. Something like smugness was growing on Rey’s face as she watched him. Could she feel this, through their bond? Is this what _she_ was feeling? If so, how in all the universe was she watching him so calmly, as if her insides weren’t trying to tear her apart?

“Rey,” he tried again. His voice was shaking.

“Yes, Ben?” she asked. Damn her. She knew what was coming.

“I think . . . I think I might love you, too.”

She shuffled closer to him, shaking her head. Her smile grew. “You idiot,” she said, brushing some hair aside from his face. She kissed him once, on the cheek, so tenderly that his heart leapt in a painful dance within him. “I know you do.”

#

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, my lovelies!!! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments if you are so inclined. This is my first ever published smut so I hope you enjoyed. ;)


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming on this journey with me! A small little ficlet that was supposed to be 1000 words exploded into this, but it sure has been fun to write. I hope you enjoy the final piece. <3

**Rey**

“I really wish you weren’t right all the time,” said Ben from beside Rey. Despite his current mood, her heart soared at being near him. Even now, six months after his rescue, there were mornings when she woke up in the warmth of his arms and had to convince herself she wasn’t still dreaming.

“Call it Jedi privilege,” she said, poking him in the side. He glared, but his expression did nothing to impact the quiet contentedness she could feel through their bond. He was happy here.

So was she.

He didn’t exactly call himself a Jedi. He couldn’t bring himself to those terms—not yet. But he was something new, a fusion of light and darkness, and together he and Rey were rediscovering the Force. When he wasn’t busy negotiating between the First Order Remnant and the people of Chandrila, he and Rey would spend quiet moments in their cottage at the foot of the Crystal Cliffs, meditating. Training. Building him a new lightsaber, using one of the crystals from hers.

And sometimes stripping naked and diving into the ocean outside, just because they could.

Right at that moment, though, they were waiting at the edge of a landing pad as General Organa’s ship docked nearby, followed by Poe’s X-wing. At Rey’s gentle urging, when the time felt right, Ben had invited them to the peace talks as representatives of the Resistance.            

The landing ramp descended, and Ben’s nerves spiked through the bond.

Rey reached out and took his hand. “I’m proud of you.” She spoke so none of the Chandrilan escort could hear.

Shock flitted across his features. It still surprised him to be praised, something which both hurt and awed her. He squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” he whispered back. She got the feeling he was thanking her for far more than just her words.

A moment later, Leia appeared. She outstripped the Resistance officers behind her, including Finn and Rose and Chewie, as she strode across the hangar bay with single-minded focus. Her expression was closed and difficult to read. As she got closer, Ben grew very still.

“Rey,” Leia said somberly, stopping a few feet from them. She shifted her gaze to her son. “Ben.”

He dodged her gaze. “M—mother.”

“You.” Leia pointed at Rey. “You owe us a new hangar door.”

Rey swallowed against a sudden dryness in her throat. Her hand felt clammy where it clung to Ben’s. “Oh. Right. The door.”

“What about it?” Ben asked.

“She completely decimated it when she went after you. Tore it apart from the inside out.” Leia shook her head.         

“She did?” Ben asked.

“It took us two months to get a temporary fix in place. Two months of security breach, Rey. You know what that could’ve done to us?”

“Mother.” Ben cleared his throat, his fingers tightening on Rey’s. “It wasn’t her fault—”

“Fortunately, there was a schism in the First Order, which distracted them a bit. A schism which _my troops_ didn’t even report to me—” She shot a glare over her shoulder, to where Finn and Rose and Chewie stood “—until a week after the fact, when I learned about it from them and not Rey, by the way, when she was the one who _caused it_.” Leia directed the full force of her stare at them both. “And don’t even get me started on _his_ crimes.” Her voice broke a little on the words.

“It was my fault,” said Ben, letting go of Rey’s hand to wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close. “All of it. You can’t blame her.” For the first time, he met his mother’s eyes, and though his voice wavered, his stare did not. “Blame me.” His voice grew quiet. "Blame me . . . for everything."

Leia went silent, too. Her face softened as she stared at her son. After a long time, when Rey’s heart beat in her ears to a deafening volume, Leia stepped closer and said, “You think I _blame_ her?” She looked up at him. “She saved my son.”

At that, she flung her arms around him and pulled him closer. Ben was so surprised he stiffened at first, letting go of Rey by default. Leia squeezed him harder, and their difference in heights would’ve made it an amusing sight if not for the tears building behind Rey’s eyes.

Slowly, very slowly, as if he might scare her away, Ben brought his arms around his mother’s shoulders. Once he returned her embrace, all his restraint seemed to disappear, and he bent forward, resting his head on her shoulder. Long moments passed as they held one another. Rey saw Leia whisper something in Ben's ear, and his back shook with ragged breaths.

Rey could not help but think of Han in that moment, but the thought was peaceful, as if he were letting out his last sigh. She knew he wanted this.

Rey sent a wave of peace through the bond. Ben glanced up over his mother’s shoulder, face stained with wetness, and smiled.

Leia stepped back, wiping her cheeks. Ben took his place at Rey’s side again, reaching once more for her fingers. Leia could not fail to see the movement, and as she watched, a bit of a smile creased her lips. “I’m still making you pay us for the door,” she said between sniffs.

Rey laughed. It was her turn to lunge forward and wrap Leia in a tight embrace. The other woman returned it with gusto. Then Leia whispered in Rey’s ear.

“I’ll accept payment in grandchildren,” she said.

Rey almost choked on her next breath.

“Right,” said Leia, pulling back. “That’s done. Let’s get negotiating.” She smiled grimly. “Please tell me there’s caf.”

A droid hurried forward to reassure her and introduce the Chandrilan delegation. As Leia went down the receiving line, politeness in her voice, Ben took Rey’s hand one more time.

“Are you okay?” he asked, looking closely at her face. “For a second there I felt—”

“I’m fine,” she said in a hurry. Then she took in the sight around her. Finn and Poe were both grinning as Rose brushed a tear from her eye. Chewie loomed over them all, his eyes bright. A faint breeze drifted into the hangar, laced with the smell of greenery and fresh flowers. Ben’s fingers were warm in hers. Beneath it all was a curious feeling within her, of rightness, and acceptance, and—peace. “I’m fine,” she repeated, wonder in her voice.

And for once in her life, it was true.

#

**Ben**

Ben Solo was in paradise.

Fingers stroked up the back of his neck, fluffing his hair. They were soft and gentle, their familiar ministrations now a part of his morning routine. Through the open window, the sound of waves from the Silver Sea soothed him back to sleep. He wanted to stay here forever.

“You’re late,” said Rey from beside him. She’d been awake for a few minutes already, of course, and was trying every attempt to wake him. He’d been hoping that if he drowsed long enough, she’d resort to kisses, but he supposed there wasn’t time for that this morning.

Perhaps in the afternoon.

“Fine,” he said after a while. The fingers stilled. “I’ll get up.”

She leaned forward and kissed his temple. “You shouldn’t keep your mother waiting. You have a treaty to sign.”

“She’s waited eleven years. She can wait a bit longer.”

“ _Ben_ ,” said Rey in a chiding tone, and he smiled as he turned over to face her. She looked beautiful, even when she was glaring at him like that. _Especially_ then. He snaked his arms around her waist.

“Ben, no. I’m getting up.” But she spoke through a grin she couldn’t suppress.

“Ten minutes?” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “When have you _ever_ kept it that short?”

“Twenty minutes.” He began to kiss her neck, nuzzling the sensitive spot that always made her moan. When it worked, the sound thrummed through him, and he amended his statement. “Thirty.”

“Twenty-five.”

“Twenty-eight. I’ll skip breakfast.”

“Thirty, and you’ll _eat_ breakfast.”

He lifted his head to meet Rey’s eyes. Her face was stubborn, though there was a glint of amusement behind the look. “Deal,” he said.

She nuzzled closer to him, kissing his ear. Her leg brushed between his and pleasure pooled within him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

He pulled back to look at her. She’d gotten more freckled after their summer on Chandrila, their afternoons of teaching her how to swim. As sunlight streamed through the windows, drowning her in light, he added the sight to his mental catalogue—the one that could grow and grow for the rest of his days. A flush darkened her cheeks the longer he stared. “Something wrong?” she asked self-consciously.

He bent to brush his lips across her nose. “No,” he said. “There's nothing wrong at all.”

#         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!! Please let me know your thoughts. :)


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